


the stars are dead (and so are we)

by notabully



Category: Blue Lock (Manga)
Genre: Angst, God - Freeform, M/M, friends w privileges kinda???, its all sfw tho, me vs my existential thoughts, no beta we die like men, out of all things i wrote this, shoutout to ariel or sumn, what, why, why did I even do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notabully/pseuds/notabully
Summary: Why are people so mad at lies? Why do they not want to be happy with what they believe in and try to find the thing that hurts? Gagamaru was perfectly fine with believing the surface because he wasn’t planning to dive deep.Probably.
Relationships: Gagamaru Gin/Kuon Wataru, Isagi Yoichi/Kuon Wataru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	the stars are dead (and so are we)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [objectsinthemirror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectsinthemirror/gifts).



_ “Sorry.” _

Three. Three in the fucking morning. 

Yet nothing stopped the doorbell from ringing even louder than under the daylight as Gagamaru flinched and looked up from his phone screen with a single message lighting it up. It’s been sent hours ago, but he kept on waiting for something, something, something to keep his breath steady and his nails from being bitten away, something to let him sleep peacefully, something to  _ bring peace _ . 

Wataru, 17:49. “I’m telling him today,” the message said.

Gagamaru never replied.

He slid onto the floor from under the bedsheets and blinked a few times in an attempt to see at the very least something in the dark. That’s right, the doorbell. He pondered if he really wanted to open the door - the perspective of getting possibly robbed didn’t scare him as much as one of being seen by the outside world in the least suitable moment. Not that he looked that bad, his appearance was always sort of out of this world, it was something he… exclusively felt. It didn’t matter, though. It never mattered.

He peeked out of the window into the backyard. The moon floated lazily in the sky just above the horizon, its belly scratched by the trees’ naked branches as it pretended to be the sun. A dog started barking. The doorbell rang again. The fridge started buzzing. Gagamaru hid his face in his knees. The doorbell rang once again. 

Noises were forcing him to move. 

Each step was heavy, so damn heavy, there was barely any point to even try and pretend he could walk. Crawling through the corridor like a guilty dog whose mischief was figured out coming to the call that would probably be its last, Gagamaru reached the end and squeezed himself through the door as if it was the heaviest thing in the entire universe. The first instinct was to say “fuck you” instead of a hello, but that plan was a no-go, Gagamaru considered himself to be tolerable at best. 

He would’ve come up with something else… something else to keep him civil. That is, if he wasn’t hit with a wave of toxic, suffocating smell of alcohol.

Not a single word was dropped. Kuon stared at a blank point somewhere far away in front of him. Gagamaru gulped and opened the door fully. Kuon blinked and hugged his own shoulders, his shaking only then becoming noticeable, but quickly let go. 

And the smell of something strong and poisonous, as if vodka, insect repellent and whiskey were mixed in a terrifying Molotov’s cocktail, never to be burned, but to sweetly intoxicate the one who even dares to try a sip. 

Gagamaru really hoped there was no insect repellent in whatever it was that Kuon drank. 

They stood on the porch for twenty more seconds, Kuon shivering lightly, yet not moving, barely even breathing, and Gagamaru trying, really trying to understand what’s going on. Kuon took a sudden breath.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Do you need to talk?”

Kuon frowned and examined the floor. “Sorry.”

Gagamaru sighed in confusion. Was that what all drunk people were like?

Kuon blinked and looked up. “He said ‘sorry’.”

Ah.

A gust of wind flew by lazily, grazing their hair lightly. Gagamaru lifted his head and couldn’t help but notice how no stars were shining that night. Something scratched the insides of his stomach. No stars. 

All stars are dead. Even the sun, supposedly asleep, secretly passed away without any clout. 

Forcing himself out of the carnivorous thought, he once again looked at the one in front of him. Drunk, tired, and probably heartbroken. It was never too much of an issue for Gagamaru to  _ see _ the feelings others experienced. The hard part came with  _ understanding  _ them. 

What’s a heartbreak, he wondered, as he stepped out of his way to let Kuon walk, no,  _ fall _ inside of the house. The other moved weirdly, like a broken doll. He looked like a broken doll.  _ Was he a broken doll?  _ Gagamaru looked away and closed the door. 

Are people like dolls? 

Gin asked himself that as he guided Kuon into the living room and walked off to get some water. That’s what they do to help drunk people, right?

People were definitely like dolls. Fragile, oh so fragile, but beautiful, each in their own way. In this world of dolls Gagamaru felt alien. He wasn’t like them, that was something he was sure of, and he liked them, but in a way one would admire a friend’s collection. He had no power over them, nor did he want to have. But watching them  _ just be  _ was nice. 

He listened to the water splash and murmur as it poured into the glass. What was the essential difference between him and this giant doll cabinet? What was it? Gagamaru wasn’t sure. There was  _ something _ . A simple little  _ something _ that was still so difficult to catch. 

Kuon waited on the couch, hugging his knees. He was definitely one of the best dolls created by this world’s unknown sculptor in every way possible. Or so Gagamaru felt whenever he looked at the other. Even Kuon’s little flame that is present in every doll, in the one that was supposed to be called human, wasn’t distinct and cold, but warm, almost burning, yet appealing. Normally it was. 

Now something was wrong, and Gagamaru _ knew  _ what it was, but didn’t want to  _ accept _ . Kuon played with a strand of his own hair, caught up in some thought that was way too difficult to decipher. Maybe there was no thought at all. The boy lifted his head as he heard footsteps. 

“Isagi… I... do you think it’s over?” 

Gagamaru hesitated. So Kuon really did confess. He shrugged, but didn’t say anything. The other continued. 

“He said ‘sorry, Kuon’. And walked away.” Kuon paused, then smiled. “What could this mean, huh?” Another pause. “I know what it means.” And a fading chuckle, almost a scoff. 

“Sorry.” It wasn’t really much, but Gagamaru couldn’t make himself say anything else. 

“Thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Thank you for opening the door.”

Oh. Ah. Well. 

“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“I told Isagi.”

Gagamaru nodded. He could make out as much. Kuon scratched the fabric of the couch with his fingernail. 

“I told Isagi that I… that I loved him. But,” he scoffed lightly, “it didn’t work out well.”

Gagamaru looked at a wall, then back at Kuon, only to witness an expression he had never seen before. Kuon was… sad. But sad in a  _ different _ way, one that was so difficult to process.  _ Sad, but happy. Sad, but not disappointed. Sad, but not angry. _ Such… happy sadness in Kuon’s green, suddenly green, eyes that Gagamaru had never paid attention to before (he, in fact, thought they were closed or really squinted all the time) made the taller lose his breath. Fake light from an electric lamp reflecting in the emerald green froze the picture, eternally static, eternally sharp yet comforting. 

Kuon looked off, tears pooling in his eyes, the lights starting to dance. His voice grew quieter, trembling lightly. “ _ I called him Yoichi. _ ”

Gagamaru’s fingers tapped on the glass nervously. “Uh…” he started, unsure of what to say. “Do you want some water?”

Kuon nodded and smiled weakly. “You sure are a good listener, aren’t you?”

The other played with a bracelet on his wrist, a little gift from himself to himself, something to fidget with, to get distracted from the overwhelming doll cabinet with. “I don’t really have much to say.” 

Kuon seemed awfully sober when he’s drunk. He nodded, sighed and scratched the fabric of the sofa with his fingernail. “Maybe… maybe if I could just let it go.”

Gagamaru nodded, but didn’t say anything. Letting go is probably the best solution to any problem. He sort of wished he could do that so easily. 

Kuon tapped the sofa one more time and stopped. “If I kissed you, would I let go?”

That was… unexpected. Gagamaru was in a position to refuse, he really was, it was Kuon who burst drunk into his house in the middle of the night and was now crying over his heartbreak which was, in all honesty,  _ none of Gagamaru’s business,  _ but did he  _ want _ to refuse?

Playing with dolls is all fun and games until the dolls start playing with you. 

He stopped to think. Kuon was a beautiful work, he was kind and warm, he fell for people too easily, he had no self-respect, he was incredibly sad yet devoted, he was charming in his own way, he was…  _ perfectly imperfect _ . That was a good word to describe. Maybe Gagamaru didn’t want to refuse him. No, no he didn’t at all. 

“Why would you? I know you don’t love me.” That was a simple constatation of fact, nothing more, nothing less. Kuon didn’t love Gagamaru. Kuon loved Isagi and Gagamaru was going to be a mere replacement. Gagamaru knew it.

Yet here they were, lips connected, Kuon’s arms wrapped around Gagamaru’s neck, his lips tasting like vodka. Vodka was awful, Kuon was  _ awful  _ (or at least Gagamaru wanted to think he was) _ ,  _ but the moment was  _ breathtaking _ . 

Kuon blinked and looked up. “I know. And I also know that you don’t care.” His breath brushed against Gagamaru’s nose. That was also a simple constatation of fact. 

He tasted like vodka, he smelled like vodka and flowers, he was just as addictive. 

It’s been months.

Gin really didn’t care. Neither did Kuon as he kept playing with the other’s heart, bringing him so high up then dropping and bringing him back up again. Tasting his lips and never answering calls or texts. Dropping by whenever he wanted no matter what or when because he knew Gagamaru  _ would be there to pick up the pieces anyway _ . And the worst part was that he really would, because he didn’t give a shit about what Kuon actually feels towards him, only letting his heart to be played, toyed with out of selfishness, out of the need of feeling loved, even if it meant lying to himself.

He wasn’t even sure if  _ he  _ loved Kuon. 

He didn’t. He didn’t and yet it was so terrifying, the very thought of waking up and not knowing that in the evening  _ he _ will come around and steal his heart once again and shatter it once more. 

But it was fine. It was always fine because what they felt didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was the one that was shown. 

Why are people so mad at lies? Why do they not want to be happy with what they believe in and try to find the thing that hurts? Gagamaru was perfectly fine with believing the surface because he wasn’t planning to dive deep. 

Probably. 

It was going to be alright as long as everything happens as usual, as long as the loop “wake up - do basic daily things - wait for Kuon - hang out with him - go to sleep” was maintained, he would be happy. 

The only part of the loop that had to be avoided at all costs was “fall in love with Kuon”. That was not the plan. 

Gagamaru was shit at following plans, though. 

It was three in the morning again, it was now a habit of Kuon’s to show up in the night. It was good, not that Gagamaru could sleep at all. 

He didn’t need a doorbell to ring at this point, Kuon’s steps were heard (probably because they were waited for) quite easily. Gagamaru, in a delusional fever, even thought he could give him a spare key. When sober, the thought felt appealing, but absurd. 

He opened the door, leaning in in a habitual movement of touching Kuon’s forehead with his nose, a greeting gesture they both got used to. 

Except Kuon dodged this time. 

Puzzled, the other suppressed the feeling of something tearing apart inside, the cobweb of comfort and habit being invaded by something new. 

Kuon pinched his own sleeve. “I’m not staying tonight.”

That was expected. At some point it would happen, and there was no point of denying it, but Gagamaru couldn’t help but hold onto the breaking strands in his lungs, trying to fix himself into something that wasn’t melting and breaking. 

“Oh.”

“Me and Yoichi… we are sort of a thing now.”

Gagamaru nodded. That was expected too, Isagi was the one to change his mind quickly and randomly. He smiled lightly before closing the door. 

“Hit me up when he breaks your heart again.”

It was time to start a new loop. 

**Author's Note:**

> what did i write just now. anyways you can hmu on @enbyeita on twt or sumn. beat me up. i hope yall enjoyed though!!


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